Muse
by RachelRiott
Summary: [Post EP for Crimes and Misdemeanors][Aiden BurnOmar Lilly] When he suggested they go to a little jazz bar and not Sullivan’s, that caused a little intrigue.


She wasn't at all surprised when he asked her for a drink, when she worked patrol she liked to have a drink with the CSI's from time to time, get the inside scoop. She loved hearing their stories; they were always so much more interesting then the domestic disturbances or the DUI's she got called out to. But when he suggested they go to a little jazz bar and _not _Sullivan's, that caused a little intrigue.

He held the door open for her as she walked inside, the smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey hung in the hair, heads turned and this time it wasn't because of her. The bartender and most of the patrons smiled when they walked in, "Omar!" Officer Lilly nodded towards them politely and settled down at an empty stretch of the bar.

Aiden couldn't help but smirk as she sat next to him, "I'd ask if ya come 'ere often but that's obvious."

He looked more comfortable in his street clothes but a little less assured, he smiled warmly and shrugged, "Pretty much grew up in here. My pops used to play the trumpet." He motioned towards an old, discolored poster of a jazz quartet on the wall, "He's second from left, used to watch him play all the time."

The thought made Aiden immediately at ease in the bar, thinking of a young Omar Lilly with a proud smile on his face as he watched his father perform. "That musta been nice." She knew her words fell short of expressing how glad she was that he decided to share that with her. It was rare in this city to meet anyone who was open and honest, for the short while she had known him he appeared to be both.

If he was looking for her to reciprocate with a story of her own he hid his disappointment well. He ordered a drink and waited for Aiden to order hers before he turned towards her, speaking in a soothing voice, "I wasn't sure if you'd accept my offer but I'm glad that you did. I enjoyed working with you today, even if it was brief."

She looked at him skeptically before grinning at him, "Ya sure yer from New York?" She couldn't imagine someone so pure coming from such a filthy city.

Smiling back almost shyly, "New Orleans originally, pops moved us up here when my mother passed away."

He didn't seem sullen when he spoke but Aiden found her hand over top of his, "Sorry." They both knew she had nothing to be sorry for; there was no way she could have known; besides it hadn't seemed too difficult for him to talk about. But there was something about him that made her want to comfort him, as if she had decided he was the one decent person left in the city and it was her duty to preserve that.

Turning his hand over under hers and lacing their fingers together he smiled softly, "Thank you, Aiden." He looked down at their hands, the contrast of their skin tones stark at such close proximity. "She passed away over twenty years ago, I was just a boy." He shrugged and looked back up at her, "I know she's watching over me though, when I'm walking the beat at night, that comforts me."

She wondered for a brief moment if someone was playing a joke on her, surely there were no men left in New York that spoke so eloquently, that were so honest and warm. Aiden wanted to crawl inside his chest and curl up against his heart, she was sure it was the only place in the entire city she'd ever really feel safe.

Their hands broke apart once their drinks came and they talked softly about their childhoods, about growing up in New York, about their jobs. What Aiden found to be especially strange was her willingness to pour her heart out to him, a man she had only met that day. He knew things about her _Danny _didn't even know.

She was so comfortable she hadn't realized that maybe she was sharing too much; it wasn't until his eyebrow went up and his voice got impossibly softer that she had realized she admitted it out loud. In a beautifully patient tone he asked quietly, "What do you mean you _used_ to be an artist?"

For the first time in the entire length of the conversation she tore her eyes away from his and they landed squarely on the watered down Whiskey Sour she had been nursing for the last half an hour. She shrugged, "Life jus'… seemsta suck the inspiration outta me."

He reached over to her chin, lighting touching her jaw, trying to get her attention, "Aiden, look at me, I want to know what your heart is saying, not just your lips."

If she had remembered how to cry she may have, but instead she just looked at him slowly, half drowning in the compassion in his eyes. "When I was a uni," she started with a strong voice, her confidence dissipating with each word, "Sometimes I got called out ta like, missin' kids, or a cat in a tree, stupid shit like that, ya know. Shit ya could do somethin' about. But now," She looked away briefly but her eyes were back on his before he could make mention of it, "Now it's like, I don't get called out unless someone has been raped or killed or somethin' awful like that, ya know? Gets real, old real fast. It's disheartenin', how can you create somethin' after seein' all that evil?" She shrugged, sipping from her drink before adding, "I guess I just stopped tryin'."

Aiden watched his features as he took in her words, she was an expert at reading people's emotions, it was her job. So when he leaned forward she got ready for the kiss she knew was coming. After licking her lips and letting her eyelids drop she still felt nothing. Peeking them open she noticed that he had leaned forward to get at his wallet, paying for both of their drinks. She felt her face burn with embarrassment, apparently she had overstepped her bounds, she half heartedly mumbled an apology, "Sorry, guess that was too much, huh?"

He looked over at her with another smile that suddenly put everything right with the world, she was sure that he could solve the problems in the Middle East with a smile like that. "Not at all Aiden, actually, _you _gave _me _a bit of inspiration, there's something I'd like to show you." He tucked his wallet away and stood up from the bar, "If that's okay, it is. If you have somewhere you need to be, my all means…"

His voice trailed off and Aiden's confidence was back in full force, she shook her curls, smiling at him, "Absolutely no where else to be Omar, I'm followin' ya."

"I'm glad to hear it Aiden." He held the door for her and didn't try to take her hand, Aiden was grateful for that. She wasn't sure what she was feeling right now, she was trying to process it as they walked but all she could think of was that smile and the way his hand had felt in his.

She faltered a bit as they approached the crime scene from earlier that day, she couldn't understand how bringing her to a crime scene would make her feel any better about the gruesome nature of her work. When she habitually headed towards the stretch of concrete where they had found the human statue but he gently put his hand on the small of her back, steering her into the park. With the addition of his hand on her body, she suddenly felt like maybe things weren't as bad as they had seemed in the bar.

When she stepped into the park her mind was still on work, she immediately began to scan the surprisingly large group of people for any illegal activity. It was as if he knew exactly what she was doing because he steered her towards a bench and took her hand in his. "Don't look as a cop Aiden, look as an artist. These people have nothing, literally. When you and I say that, we mean we don't have _enough_, they have nothing but the clothes on their backs. Still they come here day in and day out, they dance, they paint, some just blow bubbles. They are living works of art, they are their own masterpieces. They know real tragedy, you may have to see it everyday but they _live _it. They sleep on the streets, eat from trash cans, watch their friends get harassed, even killed. They get frostbitten in the winter and heat stroke in the summer, they live the lives that we get to forget about once we clock out. And still, they create. They create everyday, not just to feed themselves but because to not create would be a waste. They know how precious their time is here and they're not going to waste one day dwelling on the hardships, they come here everyday because before being homeless, before being sick, before anything else, they are artists Aiden."

He looked away from the performers and back at hers, he thought he had crossed the line when he noticed the tears in her eyes. He had only meant to put things in perspective; he wanted to lift her up, not make her feel worse. Licking his lips nervously he reached down for an apology but found none. Apologizing for something you weren't actually sorry for was akin to lying, and he wouldn't do that. Especially not to her.

He barely had time to blink before her lips were pressed to his; but surprised or not, he wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by. One hand squeezed hers as the other reached up to cupped her face, it was just a simple pressing of skin against skin, warmth in a city of cold shoulders. She pulled away and pressed their foreheads together, overwhelmed by his words, by the fact that he knew exactly what she needed to hear.

She reached up and traced his lips with a trembling finger, determined not to let a single tear fall, locking them in her eyes. She couldn't believe a set of lips could be so wise and make her feel so complete. Whispering she spoke against her skin, "Omar… thank you." She kissed him once more before standing up slowly, pulling him up with her, "I need to get back home, I believe I've found my inspiration again."


End file.
